Of Kitchen Skills And Pie Wives
by The Sci-Fi Bard
Summary: What happens when Nicole Haught comes home from a very long, boring shift...


Hey folks! This is my first Wynonna Earp WayHaught fanfic.

Please check out my other works (GoT Danara, Guiding Light Otalia etc) and don't forget to leave a review!

Feedback is what keeps us fanfic writers going! Hope you enjoy the ride...

 **Of Kitchen Skills And Pie Wives**

You're tired after a long, boring shift at work and just want to go home, get a hot drink and sink into the couch and your girlfriend's arms.

The fact the Earp homestead is now your home too is an endless source of wonder. Upon learning of the added safety the homestead afforded the youngest Earp of course you agreed to move in when Waverly asked if you could live together. Calamity Jane grumbled but soon came around when she found endless fields to prowl and an actual barn to hunt in.

So yes, unexpectedly you now live with Waverly Earp and her amazing/annoying sister Wynonna out of town on their homestead and you smile to yourself as it moves into view through your patrol car windshield.

As you climb out of the car and up the rickety front steps you mentally add a dash of Wynonna's (vast) stash of whisky to that hot drink you promised yourself as you open the front door and shout wryly, "Honey, I'm h….

And stop dead on the other side.

"… _ome_..."

All thoughts of steaming coffees and pretty much everything else in your brain instantly evaporates at the sight you're greeted with.

You blink and blink and your mouth is so wide open it's probably comical.

Waverly is standing there beaming, which is no surprise.

How she looks IS though.

To put it bluntly, she looks like she fell out of the pages of a 1950s good housekeeping magazine. The dress is crimson, boat necked, fitted at the waist, full skirted with petticoats underneath helping it balloon out. It swishes back and forth slightly as she stands there grinning at you, obviously trying to contain her usual bubbly exuberance.

Her hair is pulled back into a neat little bun with not a hair out of place and bright red lipstick has your eyes drawn from the slightly metallic shimmer of her dress straight to her mouth.

She looks stunning. Even more so than usual. So much so, you're still standing there staring, open mouthed at the perfect little picture she paints.

Your eyes are wide and your lips open and close but no sound comes out. She watches you struggle to speak and her grin grows even wider, prompting her to clasp her hands in front of her in glee at the effect she's having on you.

Finally, _FINALLY_ you get your voice to work, though it starts out with an embarrassing, high pitched croak. "B...Baby? You look…." Your eyes flick to her beautiful dress then her sinful red lips then her perfect hair then finally her grin. "Wow. Just, wow. Have I…have I forgotten something? Are we doing something special tonight?" For the life of you, you cannot recall having anything on that evening that would warrant such a display. Your girlfriend always looks amazing, (she'd look hot in a potato sack) but this is something different entirely. Almost like a perfect costume for a 50s night or something similar.

Definitely not just an evening at home outfit.

Walking slowly towards you she allays your fears. "No. You haven't forgotten anything silly!" She reaches up a hand and cups your cheek, your hands find her waist and all your questions drop away as she claims your lips in a kiss that starts out tender and reaffirming but soon turns hot and needy.

You only break away when oxygen becomes an issue and only far enough to be able to breathe, "Is it my birthday? I'm pretty sure it's not my birthday…."

She just chuckles at your words and kisses you again.

There is a part of you, a small but significant part of you, that wants to simply forget your pleasant confusion and slide your hands down under her thighs, hoist her up and stride up the stairs to her bedroom, but the cop in you is ever curious and there's always the nagging doubt of the fact she was recently possessed by a frickin demon, so any break from the norm raises at least a tiny red flag which needs dealt with before any serious thoughts of bedrooms can be considered.

She runs her hands from your neck, down shoulders, arms and takes your hands in hers, lacing your fingers together, then she's pulling you towards the kitchen. "C'mon, your dinner's getting cold and I made pie for dessert."

And you let yourself be led but this is all just a little bit odd. Incredibly pleasant and very sweet but kinda odd. Revenants and immortality rings are a thing so you wonder if time travel is too cause your girlfriend is acting like the perfect throwback Stepford housewife. " _Pie?"_

She pushes you gently down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and squeezes your shoulders, lips close to your ear, "Your _favourite_. Apple and cinnamon."

And now you are really torn. A gorgeous, amazing woman, who just happens to be your girlfriend, is urging you to eat a dinner she cooked for you so you can have your favourite dessert, which she also cooked for you. Whilst she's she's dressed up to the nines. And it definitely isn't your birthday. Your eyes narrow slightly and your chuckle is unsure, "Have you been mainlining I Love Lucy reruns again Waves? Leave It To Beaver? What is all this?"

She giggles as if your suggestion is predictable but way off the mark. "Can't a poor girl cook her hard working super _Haught_ police officer girlfriend a meal without the third degree?"

A cold bottle of beer and a steaming plate of chicken and rice with vegetables on the side is placed in front of you and the smell is amazing. But you're still doubting. "Of course! Sure! It's just…" You lock gazes and she suddenly sees the worry behind your questions. Her face falls, the grin slipping as she's once again reminded of when Mictian held sway over her. But then it passes and she leans close to your ear, "I'm me. I promise. Just go with it. For me? Please?"

A please from her and you're always putty in her hands. Your shoulders slump and you relax, start tucking into the food before you which turns out to be as delicious as it smells. "This is amazing Baby. Thank you for cooking. You didn't have to, I could've…"

But she places a warm hand over yours, "I know. I wanted to. Tell me about your day?" You smile back at her and do as she asks, though your day was long and uneventful. Coming home at 9pm to a beautiful woman in a 50s style dress and a delicious meal has been the highlight of your shift.

Before you know it, the meal is demolished and your girlfriend, who finished a few moments before you, is whisking your plate away and replacing it with a plate of awesome looking pie with whipped cream and another cold beer.

The first taste of the dessert is divine and your moan is utterly indecent, much to your mortification and Waverly's obvious enjoyment, so you cover your reaction with humour.

"I am gonna marry this pie. I am. I'm gonna marry it and have all it's little pie babies. And you can't stop me Earp!"

She happily tucks into her own helping, her nose wrinkling adorably as she giggles, "Wouldn't dream of it Deputy! Who am I to stand in the way of human/pie true love. It's surely a romance _for the ages_ …" But her words are a mockery as she leans over and suddenly tries to steal a piece with her fork.

You playfully slap her hand away and hug the plate to you like Gollum cradling the One Ring, "NO! MINE! Go way! My pie wife compels you!" then you shovel the last of the dessert into your mouth in case she tries again.

She laughs out loud at your chipmunked cheeks as you chew fiercely and sits back in her chair looking so lovely it makes your heart ache. Your heart beats faster where you sit and the urge to kiss her is overwhelming. But you have a massive mouthful of pie so you quickly chew and swallow and wash it down with another mouthful of beer until you're just sitting there staring at her, most probably with what Wynonna mockingly calls "disgusting heart eyes".

You love this woman with every single fibre of your being and you know without a doubt you'll marry her one day if she'll do you the honour of having you.

Your eyes fall on the heavenly view afforded to you with the boat neckline of her dress of her mostly bare shoulders and you swallow thickly, heat suffusing your chest, because her naked shoulders will always beckon you to carnal thoughts like a Siren calls weak-minded sailors to their doom.

Those shoulders wont let you go so you speak what's in your heart without tearing your eyes away from them. "You look breath-taking in that dress Waves."

Then you force your eyes up to hers and find her blushing, almost shy but obviously pleased under the praise. "Thank you. You make me feel breath-taking when you look at me like that. You always have."

Like magnets to iron, your hand and hers meet and twine on the kitchen table, fingers playing together, touching and stroking while your eyes are still locked.

The silence is loud, but warm and for some reason continues, on and on until far past a normal silence. You just look at each other and slowly heat the air around you with the electricity that's always generated whenever you're alone together for any length of time.

Your mind spins a Rolodex of all the things you could do to her right then, then spins again with all the things you WANT to do to her. Then something occurs to you.

"Where's Wynonna tonight?" It's a loaded question and your girlfriend is all too aware of it.

You notice the more rapid rise and fall of your girlfriend's chest as she answers "Out. With Doc. All. Night."

Your feel your pupils blow and your own breathing increase ten fold.

"That's nice." How is your voice so calm? " _For Wynonna_ " You clarify with barely restrained glee. On this occasion what's nice for Wynonna will be exceedingly nice for you too. Perhaps you'll get her a gift basket. They do bacon donut gift baskets don't they?

Where this subtle battle of wills is coming from between you and Waverly you have no idea. How you're still sitting in your respective chairs is a minor miracle, but the rising tension is exquisite so you decide to hold your nerve and see what happens.

Thankfully you don't have to wait long because suddenly she's kicking your chair back from the table with surprising force then you have a lap full of Waverly Earp, kissing you like her life depended on it.

"Damn your self-restraint Nicole!"

You laugh into her neck as you nibble on jaw, your hands full of scorching hot Earp, "Mmmmm, my my, so much for the June Cleaver schtick. Though I'm pretty sure Ward's head would've popped off if you were his wife…."

Waverly grins into your kiss, acknowledging the scene she'd set. "What, you don't think he would appreciate the things I can _do_ in the kitchen?"

The loaded way she says "do" makes your blood heat up. She's not just talking about cooking skills. She's fishing for something. Asking.

And whatever she needs you will provide.

Before she can blink you lean forward and swipe an arm across the table, the empty pie plates and everything else gets swept carelessly onto the floor with a crash and a clatter causing her to gasp. Then you're hoisting her up and laying her down on the cleared surface. "Oh, you've certainly got skills in the kitchen Baby. But let me show you _mine_ …." Then your lips seal onto where her neck meets her shoulder and you're sucking and biting and you don't stop until you know you'll leave a mark and she moans louder and louder and wraps her legs around your waist and her arms around your neck.

Her fingers in your hair pull your mouth back up to hers and the kiss is hot and sloppy and amazing. But then every kiss you've ever shared with her has been amazing. Because it's HER.

"Tell me what you want Baby?" You breathe urgently into her lips and the absolute NEED to know so you can give her every little thing she desires is _all_ you can think of.

She gasps, "YOU! Just you…" and your heart swells like a full moon tide.

You tilt her chin up with your index finger until your eyes lock again with hers and you drown in their depths, "K, then tell me what you _NEED_?"

She's gazing up at you, pupils blown and panting and if you don't find out right this second you'll spontaneously combust.

But she hesitates so you use what you know to unlock her. You lean in and press your lips to her ear because you know sometimes she still finds asking for what she wants to be hard. (Though she is getting better at that) She's spent so long never getting it that she's having to relearn it's ok to ask because now she has someone in her life that will show up, day after day and give it to her. No matter what it is and no matter what she asks for. So you whisper something you know she wont be able to resist.

"What do you need Baby? Tell me and it's yours. ANYTHING. You can have _**ANYTHING**_ Waverly…."

She screws her eyes up tight and gulps then looks at you again and you curse every single idiot that has ever put any sort of doubt in her mind. That made this exquisite creature in your arms tentative about anything, but especially about this.

You hover your lips back over hers and tighten your arms around her, grounding her. " _Tell me_." It's not an order. More like a firm demand in your most professional cop-mode voice. And she obeys instantly.

"Your fingers! Oh God, I want your fingers Nic! Please!"

Your grin is triumphant. You run the pads of those fingers back and forth over her bottom lip, your voice dripping with desire. "Where Waves? WHERE do you want my fingers? Hmmm?" You always thought making love to Waverly Earp would be the best feeling in the world, but if you were pressed, you'd have to admit it's these brief moments, when you ask her to voice her desires and she eventually spills them to you. Every time it happens is hotter than the last and they are your most treasured memories which you save for whenever you're having a really shitty day.

She fists your hair in frustration then scratches her nails down your back as far as they'll go. When she grabs your utility belt in both hands (how the hell do you still have all your clothes on anyway?) just above your ass, trying to bring your bodies even harder together you gasp and kiss her fiercely, only stopping for her to choke out a fevered " _Inside! Oh God I need you inside me NOW!_ "

"Fuck!" You don't often swear out loud, but Waverly is one of the best things in life that most often prompts you to do so. She also prompts you to move quicker than is humanly possible so it's no surprise that the request has barely left her lips before you're sliding your right hand down her side and under all those damn petticoats. You don't even bother to remove her panties, you just slide your hand under the waistband and into a veritable pool of silky smooth heat. "Oh God. You feel SO good….."

Her mouth hangs open, lips a perfect O of delicious realisation as she feels your fingers slide back and forth through her slick. Then you lock gazes again, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other's air and without further ado, you move down and gently slide two up into her. Watching her eyes go wide and the black of her pupils devour the colour of her eyes until only a thin band remains is an addictive feeling you'll never ever tire of.

You actually hear the leather of your utility belt creak with the strain of her pulling on it and it makes your centre flood with arousal. Your fingers push steadily into her until they can go no further and you grin from pure happiness, sheathed knuckle deep in the woman you love.

Her grin quickly mirrors yours as you start to move in her. You know it feels good because her eyes tells you so. After long moments moving together you pause only long enough to add a third finger and revel in the noises she makes as she feels the further stretch. Your recent conversation about safe words means you have no worry you're hurting her and you're soon moving in her once more.

Years ago, you used to watch how Bette and Tina made love on The L Word with envious eyes. They did so with their whole being, with everything that they were, and you so wished that could be something you could have with another. And now you have it and so much more and it's glorious and far, far better than watching actors playing parts on a flat screen TV could ever be.

Looking in Waverly's eyes feels like heaven.

Feeling your fingers moving steadily inside her feels like heaven.

Hearing her almost constant moaning because of you, FOR you, feels like heaven.

And every time she tilts her chin and captures your lips with her own it feels like heaven and Nirvana rolled into one.

You move your left arm out from under her and lean it by her side, cradling her cheek with your palm. She's so precious and warm and amazing and most importantly of all, she's yours. She's yours and you're hers and when you walked into Shorty's that first time and saw her you would've laid good money that in your wildest dreams you'd never be where you are now with your bodies and hearts tangled together in a perfectly imperfect riot of love.

Your thumb, which is stroking repeatedly along her jaw is suddenly captured and sucked between those bright red lips and your clit does a little solo Mexican wave.

This woman is everything. She's hot as hell, whip smart, funny, awesome, everything. Just _EVERYTHING_.

You lean down, fingers still working inside her and breathe out your innermost thoughts. They go tumbling into the warm shell of her ear. "You are _MINE_ Waverly Earp. _Mine_ to love. _Mine_ to hold. _Mine_ to worship. _Mine_ to care for. _Mine_ to listen to…." With every " _Mine_ " another, ever more firm thrust of your fingers inside her mirrors and reinforces your sentiment. " _Mine_ to follow. _Mine_ to lead. _Mine_ to fuck. **Mine**. _Do you hear me?_ " And what would be overly possessive and controlling words from the lips of someone like Champ, merely reinforce the concept that you'll have to stick around for her to be yours, to do all those things to her, day after day, year after year when they come from yours.

And that's the part she really needs to hear. The reassurance that you'll always be there. That you won't change your mind. She's told you so, both with words, deeds and looks. Some of the looks so unsure and heart-breaking you'd made a vow to whatever gods would listen that you will never ever leave her like everyone else has left her. That you will be someone she can rely on and keep relying on. That she matters the most to you and you see her. Really _see_ her.

She may not be the much-vaunted Earp heir or even an actual Earp at all, but she's the most important person in your world and you'll always tell her so until she finally believes you.

"You are MINE and I'm YOURS Waves. _Whose are you?_ "

Her lips let go of your thumb with a pop as she shakily sobs out "YOURS!"

Your other thumb moves up and makes tight circles over her clit and you feel she's close by the way her inner walls clutch and flutter at your pistoning fingers. "And whose am I? Hmm? Who do I belong to? Which fucking amazing woman owns me? Heart and soul? Hmm? TELL ME Baby…."

Her neck arches, throwing her head back and she shouts out loud, straining to come "I DO! You're MINE! Oh God! Y…You….You're MINE!"

You take advantage and slip your free hand into the back of her neatly pulled back hair, fisting it, keeping her head back as you growl into her neck before you bite down, "Fuck YES I am. Come for me Baby! Come all over my hand…."

The noise she makes then is pretty indescribable. The closest you can guess is somewhere half way between a cry and a howl. But that doesn't really matter, because more importantly your words push her over the edge and come she does, the contractions so strong she first traps your fingers then nearly squeezes them from her body. So you take the hint and pull slowly out then content yourself with cupping her mound protectively as she moves through her pleasure.

You pepper her neck with kisses as her body shakes and rides out her climax until finally she stills in your arms, your murmured words soothing and reassuring as she comes down from her high, "I will ALWAYS want you Baby. In a dress, in jeans, in rags, beneath me, above me, beside me, it doesn't matter. All those who let you go? Before? They were idiots and fools. And I may be many things but I am no fool…" You drop a kiss at the corner of her panting lips. Her eyes stay shut but she groans when you remove your hand from her underwear. You bring it up and happily lick her essence off each one of your fingers but she must hear you hum with pleasure as she forces open one eye half way and watches.

"Dinner was delicious. Dessert was even better. But I think it's fair to say you beat out the both of them Waverly Earp."

You move to stand so you aren't squishing her and she almost immediately struggles and sits up too, arms moving around you to snuggle as she happily murmurs, "Mmmm, gonna take me as a mistress?"

You frown. "Mistress?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure your brand new Pie Wife sounds real sweet and all but I doubt she'd be down for sharing you." When you look down, her cheeks are flushed and she's biting her bottom lip to keep from laughing, prompting you to bark out a laugh of your own.

You kiss her then. Because you can't not. Because you're in love and it would be a crime not to.

"I love you." Your words are simple and heart felt as you run the backs of your fingers down her cheek and they make her smile that shy, adoring smile that she only ever turns on you.

"I love you too." Every time she says that back to you your heart thuds in your chest like you're about to have a coronary, but it's a wonderful feeling and you hope it always feels like that. "I'd be a damn fool not to. You made me see stars and we're both still fully clothed! Officer Haught you never told me you had mad skills in the kitchen! Duly noted." That adorable nose crinkle. Gets you every time.

You love it when she's sassy and confident. It's unbelievably sexy. Mind you, she could be singing off key and throwing a fire extinguisher at you and she's still be unbelievably sexy.

You gaze down at your wrinkled uniform and her now wrinkled dress. "The fully clothed part isn't compulsory y'know."

An arched eyebrow. "Oh really?"

You nod helpfully. "Yep. Clothing can, like, totally be optional. But maybe not this dress?" You run your finger along its neckline.

"Oh? Like it did ya?" Waverly waggling her eyebrows suggestively won't ever not be amusing.

"Well, yeah. But not cause of that. It really suits you Baby."

The look she gives you then is genuine surprise that quickly morphs into something intense and focused. She hops off the table and holds her hand out.

You take it and tangle your fingers together as she pulls you firmly towards the stairs.

Her voice is sure and steady and her whole demeanour is drawing you to her like you have no choice in the matter. And perhaps you don't. "C'mon. We're going upstairs. We're gonna see which is better: your skills in the kitchen or mine in the bedroom."

You laugh are her corny quip but stop her before the first step so you can cup her face in your hands. "Y'know, I had the most boring day and was just looking forward to coming home to a hot drink and a comfy couch. But I love that I got a hot girlfriend and a wonderful dinner instead. You're amazing."

Waverly beams and you live for moments like this where you make her smile. It makes you feel invincible.

She steps towards you and your hands slide down to hold her hips. Her breath sounds like a hurricane next to your ear and her next words are just as devastating. "Upstairs. _Now_. You asked me what I want? Well, how about you, sitting on my face to start. I totes want you to come in my mouth…."

She pulls back, her breath hot against your cheek as she retreats and fixes you with an absolutely scorching, knowing look for a beat. Then she turns and jogs up the stairs, peppy petticoats swishing to and fro as she goes, leaving you standing with mouth hanging open for the second time that night.

"Pie Wife? Damn, it was nice while it lasted, but I'm gonna have to ask for a quickie divorce..." You chuckle at your own mumbled repartee and quickly climb after your girlfriend.

You may have only just eaten but Waverly Earp is a banquet that you have no intention of ever missing out on.


End file.
